**Disclaimer: Mi-Hyun’s journal is entirely from her IC perspective, where she deals with her innermost conflicts and emotions. It is where she gets them out. It can be intense and emotional, because that is how Mi-Hyun is under the surface. Keep in mind she has her own trauma and triggers from the world too. None of it is intended to be meant or taken OOC. I like to fully immerse myself into my character and her world, so this is one way to do it. I very much like realistic, deep and detailed RP and storylines. Especially with it’s own drama and multiple layers. Characters and their imperfections.

Mi-Hyun’s Journal is written in an old diary by hand. She often leaves it with her things where ever she stores them. If anyone ever wants to get a hold of it or go through her things, IM me and let me know.

Knowing someone’s innermost thoughts can be a double edged sword though, since her journal does not have the same politeness or sugar coating Mi-Hyun does! It is literally an open book to the world through her eyes. And it is sometimes funny, and sometimes cruel, but it is all Mi-Hyun. The diary also reflects her current state of mind and psychological health, which is something I am keeping track of along with her physical health. I keep track of everything on my characters. It adds a new layer for me to consider her mental health condition along with her physical health condition.**
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Oᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 5ᴛʜ, Sᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ.
~I found a room at the hotel.

It’s nice, undamaged. No zombies. No blood. No guts. Almost like a normal room.

It’s high, and has a good view of the shore.

It’s warm. But the hunger is starting to hurt. Three weeks? Well. I suppose I was not very well fed to begin with.

It had a mirror.

I’m getting skinny. Like. Skinny for Asian skinny. I suppose I look sexy with a tiny waist, but…

I’m thirsty.

The shelter only gave one free meal. And with the attack…

I’m too weak to even salvage now.

I could die from this.

I never considered that. Me. Like this.

I’m starting to feel… Detached from myself. Thinking in medical terms. Watching my body. Like… Is this my body? Me?

If I were anyone else I would make me a sandwich. But I don’t think anyone else has anything they can afford to give either. They are all in the same position I am. Just as desperate. And I can’t hunt with a machete.

Or maybe they don’t care. Focused entirely on self preservation.

I don’t blame them. To expect otherwise would be selfish of me. I know this desolation. I understand it.

Hunger. Thirst. Nature. Elements. Zombies. The human race has so many enemies.

And there’s still humans that want to fight each other?

So much for gaining weight in America.

And fast food.

I would even eat a pizza.

I watch the sea, and write. I think of the ship with our things. John. My babies.

I suppose I don’t care if I die. If I’m not with them.  If their…

What reason would I have without my babies?

I gave birth to them. Fed them. Raised them. Took care of them. They were our future. Our legacy. They were… Are good kids. I raised them well. John raised them well. We were a happy family.

I can’t stop crying now. I feel safe here. A place to let go.

Let go…

I’ll go to sleep…

Let fate decide…

If I die and anyone finds this. Know that I was a good woman who tried. Always loyal. Always faithful. Always loving. I fought with everything I had. I survived with everything I had. I did everything I could to help others and make the world better.

I would have even helped you.

So few good people are left in this world.

Please take my medical kit and do what you can to help others.

Don’t let the last lights go out in this world.

Let our memory live on.

Don’t forget your history. Your culture. Who you are. Where you came from.

Don’t forget what it means to be human.

Please put my body in the sea… So I can be with them.

You can keep my things. But I have so little.

Just don’t take my ring.

Let me go wearing it again.

When it’s your time, please leave the medical kit for the next person.

If nothing else… These medical tools will be my legacy. My families. Yours. Ours.

The machete was my husbands. The watch is mine. It will go on forever until it breaks. Like us. The gauges on it, the compass. They are invaluable survival tools. As long as it ticks, it means our hearts still beat.

I suppose I don’t expect to survive.

I… Am scared.

But I’m going to sleep. It won’t be painful. Terrible.

No… I am in so much pain I just don’t feel it anymore. And… All of this is terrible.

I miss having someone to talk to most of all. Really talk too. Someone to hold. To kiss.

I miss… Everything.

So it is not like I am losing anything. I already lost everything.

I’m so tired. Hungry. Weak.

I don’t know what will happen when I wake up. If I wake up.

John… Please save me.

Please…

Save me…

…

I woke up…
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